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I dunno about you ladies, but there’s this thing called “pride” that we men subscribe to. We don’t admit to feeling pain, even until you chop our arms off and lob off our legs with a broadsword. We’d still laugh in your face, and say threats like “You may have cut off my arms and legs, but you have not cut off my most important weapon: the penis! I’ll dickslap you to death, bitch!” or something intelligent like that.

Anyway, all I’m saying is that we all have delusions of awesomeness, we all pretend to not feel pain because we’re actually really awesome like that due to the size of our testicles. No, really.

Case in point: just last Saturday, we were having another TMB celebraganza somewhere in Makati and while we were waiting for Teh Mordo and Mike to arrive, me and Lauren had this most interesting conversation:

Lauren: You know what? I punch like a girl.

Me: Well, first off, you are a girl–

Lauren: And..?

Me: And girls aren’t supposed to punch well.

Lauren: What’s that supposed to mean?

Me: I mean, girls. Girls aren’t supposed to punch. They’re the ones who are supposed to be punched. And exchanged for a Crispa T-shirt and a Kamayan gift certificate.

(more…)

Do you find that your facial hair is starting to spread past your face? Are your knuckles a few inches closer to the ground than normal? Do you feel like you’re spending more and more time climbing trees and throwing feces at your friends?

Well these are the classic signs of what is known as De-Evolving. Don’t be afraid, a lot of people have gone through this phenomenon, and they are now settling fine in their respective zoos.

Hopefully, this guide which we have devised can make the transition from being a Homo Sexual Homo Sapien to Missing Link an easy and enjoyable one for you.

Identifying The Signs

Now, the first thing to do is to make sure you are indeed de-evolving. In the early days, diagnosing this condition was easy as pie. All you have to do is ask your friends one simple question:

“Hey, am I dumb?”

If the answer is yes, then you are either de-evolving or Chris Crocker.

Now, because of techno music, habit forming drugs, and Dan Brown books; it’s gotten hard to tell if people are de-evolving or are just plain dumb. But thanks to our research and a recent encounter with a de-evolvee, we’ve come up with a list of signs by which you can tell if you are climbing down the evolution ladder.

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I was drinking with some of my friends the other day when the most depressing thing happens to me. You see, alcohol does the strangest things to one’s mind- a friend was telling everyone about his sexual escapades in vivid and uncomfortable detail (“Dude! Her nipples were the size of marbles! Marbles, I tells ya!”) and we were also making fun of another guy (not me, I swear) who got shitfaced on one and a half bottles of beer and was so drunk he actually turned down repeated sexual advances by sleeping and groaning like some wino (may I repeat: I wasn’t the drunk, nor the one making sexual advances).

So we take a break from the uncomfortable sexual repartee and laughing at mister too-drunk-to-get-laid, and it was time for some pretty interesting philosophical discussion. Chicks dig philosophical tortured artists, you see. Since I speak rather fluent drunk, it would’ve been an awesome conversation of sorts on existential angst and the merits of reading grammatically-incorrect soliloquies in a darkened bathroom. The drinking group is composed of me, four bandmates, and seven women, four of which, in my beer-goggle-influenced opinion, are extremely bangable but nonetheless not the brightest bulbs in the room (our guitarist’s girlfriend is one of the smart ones. Especially if she’s reading this. And she’s a supervisor in my office. Please don’t fire me).

I don’t even have to spell it out for you: dumb hot woman + beer + monosodium glutamate = sexy time for overweight blogger with rockstar delusions.

Unfortunately, my bandmate comes out with what will be henceforth known as the stupidest question in history

“Ladies, does anyone in our group look gay?”

Of course you wouldn’t blame anyone for the awkward silence. After what seemed like an eternity, each and every single one of the girls grinned sheepishly and pointed quite apprehensively at- (more…)

Apple & Cranberry Munch More Muesli

I was rummaging through the kitchen the other day for a quick snack when I saw this really weird bag sitting in one forgotten corner of a shelf. It’s called “Simply Cereal Apple & Cranberry Munch More Muesli”. As everyone who reads my blog knows, I am hopelessly out of shape and I welcome any sort of attempt to insert healthy eating in my life. So I grab the bag, even though it looks extremely dusty and nobody had attempted to eat its contents for the last couple of months, the grammar of the product name seems weird, and it suspiciously does not have an expiration date. I will eat this supposedly healthy, fiber-enriched cereal. I don’t think I’ll die of colon cancer anymore! YAY FIBER! Also, watch as a slimmer, fitter me emerges!

It actually looks quite edible, even delicious. I mean, it’s apple and cranberries. And it’s got real fresh fruit! And it looks like you have to scatter them on the ground and wait for a few months for harvest before you can eat them. (more…)

So we walked in the bar with absolutely no practice and no idea what will happen. My bandmates were quite apprehensive.

“Ade”, one of them said. “What the hell are we doing here?”

I reply with “We’re gonna play. Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

“Yes dude I know that, but what are we here for?” he counters.

“What do you mean?”

“What are we in this world for? Why are we living this life? What is our God-given purpose?”

“Dude, what the fuck.”

I stared at my bandmate blankly for a couple of minutes. He was looking back at me quite earnestly.

“Man,” he said “our lives- everything- is meaningless. We all turn to dust in the end. So why do we struggle on with our lives? We do not have a higher purpose. We are but a waste of oxygen.”

Waste of oxygen

“So what do you propose?” I said.

“We live the Rock Star Mantra.”

“Ah,” I said, finally understanding my bandmate’s point. “The Rock Star Mantra. You mean Sex, Drugs, and Rock n’ Roll?” (more…)

Hailing the cab

ME: I need to get to Ortigas. Fast.

DRIVER: Okay. We’ll take EDSA?

ME: Whichever way is faster is fine by me, but yes, EDSA sounds good.

DRIVER: Well then, EDSA it is. Brace yourself–

ME: HOLY FUCK DID YOU JUST GO FROM ZERO TO SIXTY IN FIVE SECONDS?!

DRIVER: Actually… zero to sixty-five. Big difference, you know.

ME: But– but– YOU DIDN’T EVEN GIVE ME TIME TO PUT MY SEATBELT ON!

DRIVER: Seatbelt? Those big straps by our seats? You mean people use those things? What do they do, protect you from injuries in case of a car crash?

ME: Actually, yes.

DRIVER: Pussy.

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NOTE: All editions of Down the Highway can be found here.

Dear DtH,

My emo band, “The Eye Liners“, broke up. This made me sad(der) because I seriously don’t know how to live without them. I swear, nobody can make me feel just as miserable as they do. They introduced me to the wonderful world of misery- they showed me that no matter how comfortable life can get, I still have a reason to be depressed. Even if I just make it up. Also, they showed me how to cut my hair like somebody ran a lawn mower through it, and how to dress in black (and only black). (more…)